Only Human
by Madame Wesker
Summary: What turmoil rages within a god who is at odds with himself? Can a mere human survive when a god loses control?


He lay on his back, wearing simply a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. One arm across his muscular abdomen, the other above his head. Rumpled silk sheets of deepest garnet lay half off the bed. He was restless tonight. A fire burned low in the hearth, lighting the darkened room in the same amber glow as his eyes. Eyes that were closed now. He rarely slept, except maybe twice a week. Mainly for a few hours, just enough time to rest his brilliant mind, for his supernatural body did not need it. The smell of wood, leather, his natural musk and his intoxicating cologne mingled to make this room perfectly his. The woman inhaled deeply as she paused at the threshold taking in the sight of him. The smell of him. Had she ever known perfection? This...he..was perfection. How could she compare? She must have lost her mind to continue. She should have returned to her room the minute she saw his gloves and glasses on the table by the front door. He only took them off when he retired to his apartments...she should have went back to bed.

The blizzard had woken her. Alone in her bed she had awaken and immediately thought of him. Was he in the labs? Out on a mission? He rarely told her these things. She merely served. An honor to serve him. She did not regret leaving her entire life to merely bask in his light. Every day by his side was a gift. Every new insight he offered a small miracle. He truly was a god. Able to answer any question she put to him, when the mood struck him. So in this blizzard she worried for him, as any high priestess would. How may I ease my lord's discomfort? It occured to her that he was probably in the labs, as he had been for weeks and then the thought took over her mind. It became obsession. It colored her whole world. To sleep in his bed, to inhale the scent of him. To lie peacefully, dreamless in his bed. She missed him. Missed his quick wit, his infrequent chuckle. She missed his arrogance, his habitual detachment, his condescending smile, his serpentine eyes, his mercurial rage. She missed HIM. Little idiot she thought to herself as she crossed her apartment. Shutting the door behind her she looked across the hall at his door. Not too late her conscience chided. Biting her lip, moving on soundless feet, she crossed the hall. Tilting her head back and forth, debating. She punched the code in the steel security door and entered. She sighed as she leaned her back against the door. Are you crazy her mind yelled at her. What will he do if he finds you here? She looked beside the door and on a small table, his gloves, his glasses. In a fog, she walked through the living room, her mind shrieking for her to leave. A glass of whiskey, half empty on an end table. A lab coat tossed over the back of the couch. He must be distracted, he's never this sloppy. She followed the clues like breadcrumbs: shoes beside the coffee table. She didn't know why the thought of his bare feet made her shiver so. Black turtleneck lying in the door to the bathroom. A sock on the hamper in the bathroom. Black slacks tossed beside the huge marble and glass shower. A pair of black jockeys in the marble sink made her blush. Her mind telling her to go, just go! You can still smell the almond soap he uses, he might still be awake! The little idiot is mesmerized and continues. Through the huge marble bathroom, into the walk in closet.

Inexplicably, a bottle of whiskey sits on the floor and drawers are open haphazardly. Now she is concerned. She has never seen his things in disarray. She has O.C.D but he, he is meticulous. Concern and anxiety tighten around her heart and she continues into the bedroom. He is asleep. An Adonis with a frown. He is motionless but he looks irritated, even in sleep. She feels like she is witnessing something profound; the god sleeps. Does he dream of better worlds than this? Does he dream of undoing humanity? What does a god dream of? she wonders. She is prone to flights of fancy and melodrama. He says she amuses him with all her dreaming but she knows it is merely the amusement you get from a child, because they're simple. She sighs, wishing she knew how to gain his respect. She laughs inside and it is bitter. It doesn't matter she tells herself. It is enough to serve him. Until the day he takes my life, it is his. She smiles and it is sad. She supposes that she loves him. Loves him for being so much...more. For being impossible, for being beautiful, for being magic. Something that should not be. She loves him as completely as she loves sunrise. She loves him as completely as she loves the idea of fairies. He is the only magic left in this world. She doesn't think it consciously as she steps closer to the bed. Smiling sadly down at him, the words come unbidden. "So beautiful." An iron vise wraps around her wrist and amber eyes flush crimson as he stares up at her, wide awake.

What excuse could she possibly give? She tilts her head and broadens her smile. "Hi."she whispers. His pupils widen ever so slighty. In the glow from the fire, his alabaster skin is tinged as red as his eyes. He seems made of fire. Only his cool hands betray the illusion. His face is perfectly still. "what are you doing here?" he asks, fingers tightening. She shrugs, there is no answer, no reason. 'I missed you' would sound foolish. He releases her and falls back, hands over his eyes. "Get out." it is a simple statement and she is relieved that he's letting her off so easily. She bows her head and turns to leave. He sighs and it sounds so anguished that it confuses her and she pauses. Looking back at him, worry crosses her brow. "My lord?" she whispers. Here in his inner sanctum it seems only fitting to whisper. He is lying still with his hands on his eyes. She walks to the bed and tentatively puts out a hand. She hesitates, bites her lip. Her fingers brush one muscular shoulder. "My lord?"

The next moment she is thrown across the room, colliding with the wall beside the desk. She gasps and attempts to right herself. Cool, iron fingers grab her throat and crimson eyes burn into hers. "Damn you woman!" he snarls, Why must you torment me day in and day out? Can I not have a moment's peace?" His face is a mask of fury. She shakes, not in fear but confusion. "I don't.."she begins, shaking her head. He growls and tosses her to the floor. "In the labs, I cannot escape you. On the grounds, I cannot escape you. On missions, I cannot escape you. In my bed, alone, in the middle of the night, I canNOT ESCAPE YOU!" His voice has risen to a roar. His eyes burning crimson bright. The muscles in his arms and chest taut. She was confused and starting to be just the tiniest bit afraid, not for herself but for him. He was not one to lose control. She was afraid to know what was sparking this. Rages he had had but they were brief. Flickers of fire, not this. Not this blaze of anger. She took a step forward, her only concern to comfort. He stood there glaring, an avenging angel. "My lord, if I ever.." she didn't get any farther. He was suddenly before her, fingers in her hair, bent down to whisper savagely in her ear. "I cannot... escape you. Do you understand?" She shook her head then his lips were crashing down on her. His tongue invading her mouth. Fingers clenching in her hair hard enough to make her whimper. His other hand slide down her side and settled on her waist. Horrified at the sudden understanding she only whimpered as he kissed her brutally. His body hard against her, every muscle seemed etched from stone as she fought herself, fought this onslaught of animal lust. It was not a battle she could win. She melted against him, soft whines in the back of her throat. His hand at her waist squeezed and she felt that brutal strength used against her, again. For a fleeting second she did fear for herself but she reminded herself that he was her god. His whim hers to follow. If this was what he wanted...

Suddenly he shoved her away from him. She tried to stay on her feet, knees weak, senses reeling. He stood a few feet away, his back to her. "Wesker?" she cried. Even to her ears it sounded pathetic. He didn't look back as he said very simply, with no inflection. "Get out." He walked into the walk in closet. Feeling as if her whole world was crumbling she walked on unsteady legs with blurred vision back to her room. She curled up in her bed and cried silently. Cried for loving a god when she was merely inadequately, pathetically, human.


End file.
